III.

As when a Lion rears his head, The forest wide is fill'd with dread, Each creature seeks his den; Or when Leviathan the great Displays himself in finny state He terrifies the main.

IV.

In fair record shall long remain The DAY, when on _Thuringia's_ plain SOUBISE before him fled; When HILBOURGHAUSEN'S num'rous band 'Gainst Prussian valor could not stand, With terror almost dead.

V.

With haste they fled, and bless'd the night, Which hid them from the victor's sight, And favoured their retreat.

Near Freybourg walls, the _Unstrut_ pa.s.s'd.

On hills of Eckersberg harras'd, They mourn'd their adverse fate.

VI.

O glorious prince! O warlike train!

Who hunger, cold and toil sustain With brave unyielding mind!

To you proud Austria shall submit, And LOUIS lovingly shall greet The _Prussian_ as his friend.

VII.

In characters of purest gold Thy speech deserves to be enroll'd, Before the battle made; Each Soldier stil'd great FRED'RICK'S friend, Who can his country's rights defend When her fierce foes invade.

VIII.

Who would, in battle lag behind, That serves a prince so great, so kind, In every danger near?

When monarchs' lives are laid at stake, What subject would his king forsake?

What room is left for fear?

IX.

Europe on thee has fix'd her eye, Great monarch! All on thee rely Her balance just to keep.

May this great end thy labours crown, Be sempiternal thy renown, When thou in dust shall sleep.

Philadelphia, February 10, 1758.

_Amer. Mag. and Mo. Chron._, I-240, Feb. 1758, Phila.

The same worthy motives that induced the author to send us the following poem, will induce us to give it place this month, altho we are already crowded with materials. We think it our duty, as _Britons_ and _Protestants_, to take every opportunity of celebrating such an ill.u.s.trious hero as the King of _Prussia_; and, however unequal the strains may be thought, yet if they contribute ever so little to raise an imitation of his n.o.ble and almost divine atchievments, in the cause of _Religion_ and _Liberty_, our end will be fully answered.

ON THE GLORIOUS VICTORY OBTAINED BY THE HEROICK KING OF PRUSSIA OVER THE IMPERIAL ARMY NEAR NEWMARK IN SILESIA THE 5TH DECEMBER 1757.

I.

My muse! again attempt the lyre; Rouse! rouse! thy whole poetic fire!

Great FREDRICK'S deeds do still require More ample praise.

Let his great acts the verse inspire, And tuneful be thy lays.

II.

Ill.u.s.trious HANNIBAL of old, CAESAR the brave and SCIPIO bold, For battles won stand high enroll'd In hist'ry's page!

Let Fred'rick's name with theirs be told, The HERO of his age!

III.

_Rosbach!_ thy plain the VICTOR owns!

'Twas fill'd with shrieks and dying groans, And mangled limbs and shatter'd bones-- In heaps they lay!

The vanquished _Gaul_ as yet bemoans That inauspicious day.

IV.

Yea FRED'RICK bent on conquests new, Doth ALEXANDER-like pursue, As if the world he would subdue-- Undaunted prince!

That thou 'rt a _Hero_ great and true Each action doth evince.

V.

_Silesia_ first demands relief, His losses there augment his grief; Thitherward the _Prussians_ and their CHIEF, To BEVERN'S aid Make hasty marches; and in brief Their parts they n.o.bly play'd.

VI.

See! see! the G.o.dlike MAN proceed!

And vet'ran bands to battle lead, Inur'd to toil, and warlike deed, A hardy race!

Such troops are princes' friends indeed, And do their LEADER grace.

VII.

The trumpet's sound, and loudest noise Of martial drums, increase their joys; Not by compulsion led, but choice, And bold to fight, Their _Country's_ cause in mind they poise; _War! War!_ is their delight!

VIII.

Now they engage with furious shout; And join in battle fierce and stout, Th' invet'rate _Foe_ at length they rout; And loud they cry-- O! matchless _Prussians_! ne'er give out; Pursue! Cut off! Destroy!

IX.

Th' intrepid victors far and near Spread fierce destruction on the rear, Their enemies with trembling fear Their arms lay down; Who whilom haughty and severe, Had deem'd the field their own.

X.

See them triumphant bear away Th' imperial standards waving gay!

A thousand trophies line the way; As they return, Beneath their feet, a hapless prey, The vanquish'd mourn.

XI.

Behold the blood impurpled plain, And shiver'd armour of the slain!

Their dreams of honour, ah! how vain?

Gasping they lie!